


Respite

by sarenka



Series: Delrin & Mira [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emprise du Lion (Dragon Age), Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Loving Marriage, Marriage, Tenderness, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22550596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarenka/pseuds/sarenka
Summary: Prompts filled for 14 Days of DA lovers on Tumblr.Series of one shots taking place between chapters 41-45 of 'Lady Barris', featuring Mira and Delrin during their time in Emprise du Lion.Moments of tender respite during the war.
Relationships: Delrin Barris/Original Character(s), Delrin Barris/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Delrin & Mira [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626658
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. Rose

**Author's Note:**

> I know I had a delay with updating 'Lady Barris', but please remember I am still working on that story. 
> 
> You can enjoy this series on one-shots without knowing the main work.
> 
> If you would like to follow me on Tumblr: https://sarenkascrawls.tumblr.com

He knew Mira hated Emprise du Lion, but there was more to it. Each time Delrin watched her face when she thought he wasn’t looking, he felt the knot tightening inside his stomach. She had never seen the reality of war before, and each day she needed to tend to the wounded and deal with the shortages they were facing in Sahrnia. He had seen her busy before, but he had never seen her as physically and mentally drained.

They needed her here. He hated admitting it, but the field infirmary had already saved lives. Still, he bore witness to the cost of her work. That was his wife. A woman he had sworn to care for and protect. Instead, she was sleeping by his side in the middle of the military encampment, and each day he wondered if there would be a time when her life would be on the line.

Barris knew all of this was a bad idea. Any day, he could be the one she would need to tend to, and she would need to remain unbiased. The worry was eating her alive, and he understood, because he faced the same one. Could he be unbiased if it was Mira? Would it cloud his leadership?

He could not fail. Not again, not after everything that had happened, after the lives lost under his command.

This blighted war felt like it would never end. Part of him wanted to take a woman he loved and run away. He would never, and yet he couldn’t escape the void in his soul as each night he watched her toss and turn in her sleep, restless.

She came to the tent quiet, her eyes red and glassy. Delrin wanted to ask questions, but she just shook her head. He didn’t press. They always had an understanding regarding their duty, and how painful it could be. Mira usually talked a lot, and she cried a lot, too, but sometimes what she sought from him was comfort and silence.

Her hands were cold, and she smelled of Elfroot when he hugged her among the sleeping furs, wanting to bring her some warmth and solace. Something to make the day more bearable.

“You know what I would like?” She whispered.

“What would you like, honey?”

“Spring.”

He smiled, kissing her forehead and tightening his grip until she fell asleep.

*****************

When Mira woke up in the morning, Delrin was already gone for his mission. Her heart clenched. She would never get used to it. Back at Skyhold, at least she could have pretended to not grasp the reality of the task ahead of him. Here, in Emprise, she saw the harm that could come to him each day, in the most intimate way. She tried to mend injuries her husband could die from as well.

Not now, she reminded herself. As long as they were in Emprise du Lion, she had to remain strong and just do her work. Anything else came secondary.

She looked to the side and saw a pyrophite flask. He had made her tea before leaving, like he did every day without fail. She took a sip, warming up, when something else caught her attention. His leather sketchbook was on her side. Delrin was very neat, this was no accident.

“Open it. I love you,” the short note said, marking the page.

It was a dog rose twig, drawn in detail, beautiful.

“Spring,” he signed it.

Mira smiled, choking on emotion.

They would see spring together, after all this.


	2. Holding hands

Mira enjoyed watching him train his squadron, preparing for the missions or running a debrief afterwards. Most of it she could not witness, but sometimes she would catch a glimpse of Delrin motivating baby Trevelyan, or reigning in Zuzu without extinguishing her spirit. He was good at his work, and she admired that quality. He had never shied away from the responsibility. Not even once. He never made his duty about himself, either. A true leader, he guided his team, showing them they could trust in his orders. They killed on his command. There was no other way to phrase it, however uncomfortable that was. They were soldiers, and he led them to battle, and they put faith not only in his training and ability but also in his morals.

She would never fully grasp it, but Mira was giving orders on her own, and while there was a room for communication, she knew that the final decisions at the infirmary often belonged to her. Split-second choices that could save someone’s life or the contrary.

Delrin had noticed her already; his eyes stopping on her face for a second longer before he returned to talking to his squadron.

“Lavellan, Trevelyan, I expect you to resupply our medical kits. Remember, we are facing shortages, so the protocol has changed. Clarissa, would you locate Scout Harding and update her with our findings? I want it done immediately.”

“Yes, captain.”

“Beau, Morve, are you on camp duty tonight?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Good. Yes, Arthur?”

“I want to volunteer for the morning hunt.”

“Ah, yes. That would very helpful. If any of you would like to join in, I would gladly move the drill for later. There is a lot of meetings tomorrow anyway, so I appreciate you all making yourself useful and contributing even when we’re not training.”

“Yes, captain.”

“Any more questions?”

“No, captain.”

“Very well. Great work today. You’re all dismissed. Enjoy your well deserved rest.”

Mira greeted the members of his squadron as they scattered around, and then finally it was just her and Delrin.

“I am very happy to see you,” she said, tapping his metal breastplate.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he replied, smiling.

Back in Skyhold, they kissed once or twice in public before, but this was a military camp, and they were never off duty. Not truly. Delrin was a private man; serious and appropriate. At least until they were alone.

“Do you need some tending to?”

“Are you asking as a medic or my wife?”

“The latter.”

“Then yes,” he grinned. “Are you still working?”

“I am done for now.”

“I just need to deliver few things to the quartermaster, but then I am all yours.”

They were good at it. The waiting, the ability to postpone affection, the search for tenderness and love during short moments of respite. Even here, in Emprise du Lion, far from peace and far from home.

He removed his glove and took her by her hand. Such a simple gesture, almost understated. Mira loved his hands; big, strong, with few callouses and some hardened skin. The same hands that drew the most beautiful images. The same hands that caressed her and soothed her. The same hands that made her fall apart underneath his touch.

Delrin felt warm and secure. They walked through the whole encampment, and he didn’t let go of her, not for a second.

They didn’t even need to say much more for now. He was back after another mission, and soon, she would take off his armor and his clothing, and run her fingers on his body, checking for bruises and lacerations, applying the Elfroot salve onto all the places that hurt. Then, she would love him, and kiss him, and please him, because he was hers, and because he returned unharmed.

He squeezed her hand as if he could read her mind.


	3. Bow and arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild nudity

“Fucking bow and arrow,” Mira groaned, removing her tunic and breaches.

Whenever she was angry, Delrin could swear her hair seemed on fire. But anger was a good sign. It meant that her day was trying, but not gut-wrenching. There was a difference he knew very well himself.

Obviously, he had been notified of the Inquisition scout who got shot in the neck. A mage in the same unit healed her on the battlefield to stop the immediate bleeding, and they managed to bring her back to the camp, to the field infirmary.

“She lives?” He asked.

“Yes,” Mira took a deep breath. “ She wouldn’t without Fiona and Vivienne, but she does. We managed to remove the arrow and not kill her in the process.”

He watched her unclasp her brassiere, freeing her heavy breasts and then slide the smalls down her hips. It was Emprise du Lion in the middle of winter, the punishing cold all around them.

“There’s hot water in the pitcher,” he mentioned.

“Oh,” she gasped, relieved. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

They were in the middle of a long-term military operation, so that was their everyday routine. There was something domestic to it, and something fragile, too. He gazed at her body, lit by the soft glow of the candle, as she poured water into the bowl. She brushed her teeth first, and then the herbal fragrance filled the tent, so nice and familiar. Mira washed herself with a cloth with quick moves, rushing but no less diligent about it. Her pale skin reddened from all the scrubbing. He admired her curves, not taking his eyes off her. 

“I am going to be so fucking happy,” she dried herself carefully and ditched the water outside, hissing as the cool air entered the tent, “if I never see another bow injury again. You know, not even the armor helped her. I know you take off your helmet during missions, too. I just… Delrin, there are things I have never seen. I could not be more unprepared. Archery is the worst. Awful. Fuck. I don’t know why I am still so riled up.”

“It’s all right,” he murmured as she put on his sweater and socks. She always wore his sweater and socks to sleep here. “You know I am here to listen. Always.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, slipping under the covers. “I want at least this tent to bring us some respite from everything outside.”

“It does,” he said, wrapping his hand on her waist and pulling her close until her body was flushed with his.

“I just feel so inadequate and stupid.”

“You know it’s not true,” he moved her curls, bearing her neck to place a gentle kiss. “Despite all the challenges, you know you are the most capable person and what you do each day matters. Believe me, I know how much it matters. We would be so fucked up without the proper infirmary.”

“Mhm,” she sighed. “I know you’re right.”

“Besides,” he kissed her again, “You saved a life today. You are not only smart, but resourceful, and talented, and strong…”

“Mhm,” she breathed, this time with approval, grinding against him. “Tell me more.”

“Beautiful,” he traced his fingers through her thigh, up to the waist. “So lovely. And sweet. And stunning. And sexy.”

“Even when I am wearing your old sweater and I desperately need to wash my hair?”

“Especially when you’re wearing my old sweater,” he chuckled into her ear. “And nothing underneath.”

“Captain Barris,” she turned towards him with that half-amused look on her face. “You are horny.”

“Surgeon Barris,” he retorted, grasping her ass. “I am merely being an attentive husband.”

“Is that so?”

“Mira,” he leaned in close, brushing against her lips. “I’d like to help you… release. You are taunt as a bow string.”

She erupted in laughter, turning away and then burying her face into his chest.

“You’re not allowed to make puns about archery” she frowned, eyes glistening with mirth, still smiling.

He loved that smile more than anything else. As long as she smiled like that he felt that he could face everything ahead of him. Each day, he got to return to that smile, to the woman he loved. His wife.

“Shame,” he smirked. “I was planning on making you… quiver with pleasure.”

“Delrin,” she complained in a feigned disapproval and then caressed his cheek. “You are horrible.”

“I suppose I should make it up to you, honey,” he offered, running his thumb over her upper lip.

They kissed, finally. Her breathing deepened as she opened her mouth for him. He tasted the Elfroot on her tongue, cool and pleasant, such a contrast to her now warm face and body. Second after second, Mira was melting underneath him, so sweet and loving.


	4. Napping together

Mira stirred awake at the first sign of intrusion into the tent.

“Is it time?” she groaned.

“Shh, honey, go back to sleep,” Delrin whispered. “We have a couple of hours until the war meeting.”

Those days, she needed to attend those dreaded war meetings to advise on medical needs for the upcoming missions, and to prepare for the influx of injuries. She was not privy to every detail, but her presence required more than just sitting and listening. Every single time someone asked her questions for which there were no accurate answers.

“Fine,” she mumbled.

“I’m joining you for a nap,” he said. “I am so fucking tired I might fall over.”

“Mhm,” she managed, still half-asleep. “Come here.”

She barely registered the sound of the clacking armor, and then he slipped underneath the covers. He still wore his breeches and a tunic, but then so did she. A medic and a soldier, they were used to it and neither of them were fussy when presented with a chance to sleep.

Delrin wrapped his forearm over her waist and buried his chin into the valley of her breasts.

“Are you comfortable?” she laughed, squinting to open her eyes.

“Oh, yes,” he responded dreamily, rubbing his face against her cleavage. “You’re so soft and warm.”

Mira smiled, running her fingers through the patch of coarse hair on top of his head and then reaching the clean-shaven skin on the sides. He let his beard grow, but he still took time to trim and shave his hair. She placed a gentle kiss on his temple.

“I love you,” she said, caressing Delrin with all the tenderness that she had reserved only for him.

“I love you, too,” he sighed.

He fell asleep within seconds, still clinging to her, lying in her embrace, letting her hold him and guard him. Her heart trembled with emotion, and even though she was still tired, right now she didn’t mind watching over him for a while. 

How was he so beautiful? Was there any other way to describe it? His steady breath warmed up her skin, and his beard scratched and teased a little. Mira could see the curve of his cheekbone, and his gorgeous dark skin. He had a perfect face, and she would look at that face for the rest of her days. She kissed him once again, and he didn’t even flinch.

There had been nothing but truth between them, and Delrin was not a man to hide his vulnerability. Every day he walked out the gates to fight. Such a simple word, and yet it contained so much. He never lied about the reality of his work, and how he killed so many, because this was war and the world was ending. It didn’t haunt him on a daily basis, but it hurt nonetheless, because he understood that war, even unavoidable, caused irreplaceable loss.

Whatever mistakes he had made in the past as a Templar or simply as a person, he had never lost his heart and that sense of responsibility and duty. Each day, he tried so hard to plan and prepare, to protect, and defend. He treated it all with utmost seriousness because he had never lost sight of those depending on him. He tried to be better, and to do better, and he wanted this world to last, and then to change it for the better, too.

She has seen him shiver when talking about Therinfal and Haven. She had seen the pain stemming from realizing the depth of the depravation within the Order. She had seen the relief brought by a kind word. She had seen him cry in her arms.

Nothing could hinder his sensitivity. Delrin was a tender man, unashamed of that softness. He cared so much, and now he carried a huge burden. To safeguard everyone within this military camp, to oversee the cooperation with the Chevaliers, to win over the Emprise du Lion, to rescue the people taken to the quarry by the Red Templars. To lead his squadron and not let any hurt come to them, and to do that for every other soldier as well. There were those who had died already and there would always be more.

It bothered him that she was here. They did not choose it, and they were dealing with it, but she knew it bothered him and that he was afraid for her. Delrin loved her, and he wanted her warm and safe. He carried that burden, too, and he didn’t push her away, but shared his fear openly.

From warm tea each morning and checking if her armor fit properly, to helping her wash her hair or making sure that there was hot water ready for a cloth bath, he still took time and effort to do daily tasks for her, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That was her man. Considerate, loving, gentle, honorable, witty, warm, kind. How lucky was she, really?

He let her take care of him, too. He always let her check his bruises and tend to his wounds, however small. He enjoyed receiving her affection and attention. Delrin leaned on her just as much as she leaned on him, and Mira took comfort in that.

Their marriage left no space for reservation. She had given him everything, not holding back, and he had done the same. That was why, amidst it all, she believed in their love for each other, and she believed that they would carry each other through whatever was about to come.

Her sweet, perfect husband, so mellow and peaceful, snuggling her up.

Mira rested her cheek on his forehead, closing her eyes.

Even when a bit sweaty, he stilled smelled so good. She inhaled that woodsy and warm scent with no shame.

Delrin.

She loved him so much.

It was brilliant.

And with that thought, Mira fell asleep, too.


	5. Love Letters

Mira was messy. Not horribly, but still. That fact remained less annoying when they were sharing their quarters in Skyhold and had actual furniture and a bathroom. It seemed less innocent at the moment, when Delrin was looking around their small tent, lit only by a reading candle.

“Could you possibly contain your things a little more and not make such a mess?”, he groaned. “Please?”

“Oh,” Mira’s glanced at him quickly, embarrassed. “I am sorry. This tent is making me so disorganized.”

“Mira,” he shook his head. “Le’s be honest. You have always been a bit disorganized.”

“Ouch,” she furrowed her eyebrows, sighing dramatically. “I guess the honeymoon is over.”

He half-listened, pushing away the pile of clothing to the side.

“How quick,” Mira teased, “that the romance disappears, leaving us cold and distant, not talking to each other.”

“Well,” Delrin glanced at her, smirking. “I talked little tonight because my tongue was rather busy between your legs. And you, my love, sounded anything but cold and distant.”

She grinned. “I will try to clean up more. Don’t expect it to be military neat though.”

“I just want to find my book.”

“Have you checked the corner on the left?”

No, he did not.

“Huh,” he muttered. “Got it. Thank you, honey.”

“I’m back to being your honey, hmm?”

He settled by her side once again and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re always my honey. Even when I clean your hair out of the tub.”

“Aren’t you the most gallant man?”

“I try,” the book on his lap opened, revealing a neatly folded pile of letters.

Barris picked them up to move them to the sketchbook. He wouldn’t let anything happen to those letters.

“Delrin, are those from me?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Sometimes I get lonely and reread them. You know, I didn’t quite think you would actually be here in the field with me.”

She rubbed his shoulder, all gentle and loving.

“That is so adorable.”

“Those letters are adorable. They changed so much, too, and I love them all.”

“Mhm,” she purred, peppering his jawline with kisses.

“That is why I am shielding those letters from your messy ways. All my books are on my side of the bedroll and you are not to move them, please.”

Mira’s laughter erupted in his ear as she brushed her nose against his cheek.

“Fair point,” she agreed.

“Now,” Delrin smoothed out the letters in his hands. “Do you want to hear what you actually wrote me though all those months?”

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“So this is the first one.”

“We barely knew each other back then.”

“Now hear this, _‘If I have any right to make any demands of you, let me just make this one: please take care of yourself.’_ ”

“Oh.”

“Let me point out that now you have no problems making demands.”

“You like it,” she retorted with much confidence, and he couldn’t hide his smile.

“I do like it. Most of the time. You signed all your early letters with _‘yours, Mira Barris.’_ ”

“That has always been true, in away. It just… changed its meaning somewhere along the way.”

“ _‘Ideally I’d just ask you to not get injured at all, but that seems a little patronizing.’_ ’’

“Damn, Delrin. How disappointed were you when you discovered that in reality I am an awful patronizing nag?”

“Believe me, Mira, you couldn’t hide it nearly as well as you think.”

“All right, I was expecting more praise, you horrible man. If that’s what we are after six months or so, what will happen in ten years?”

“I am sure we’ll be blissfully happy. Listen to this. This is one of my favorite passages. I’ve reread it probably hundreds of times. _‘I have never thought of you as careless, not ever for a second. And I think I understand how it feels when your heart is being chipped away precisely because of the task at hand. For whatever it’s worth I find it hopeful that there are men like you in this world who fight while still caring so much. I don’t think it’s a weakness, and I don’t think having a heart goes against your duty. Frankly, I feel that the reason why you are trusted with all that you do is precisely because of who you are.’_ I look at those words whenever I feel overwhelmed or sad or… It truly means a lot.”

“I love you,” her voice cracked. “You know that? And I always think that of you.”

“I know. And I love you. Now, the letters you sent me to Western Approach were… Sweet Andraste, Mira. They were so so sweet.”

“We should have kissed earlier than three days before your departure.”

“Are you chastising yourself or me?”

“I remain undecided. So, should I be embarrassed by the things I wrote?”

“Not at all,” he grinned. “Because I love it all, and nobody else is reading it. Now, listen. _‘I miss everything about you. I miss kissing you goodnight. I miss how warm you are. I miss the way you smell. I can’t believe I am admitting it willingly but I took out your dirty shirt out of the hamper and I have been wearing it to bed, just to feel your scent covering me. How foolish to reveal it in writing, but perhaps it will make you feel cozy in the evening when you’re reading my words.’ ”_

She blushed, covering her face.

“And now,” he added triumphantly, “I am right here, and you’re still wearing my dirty sweater.”

“It’s warm.”

“It smells of my sweat.”

“Well,” she managed. “We all have our weaknesses.”

“Here is another one. _‘I want you to think of me when you’re away. Imagine me with your shirt on. Imagine me without it. Imagine more. I think about you so often and I truly can’t wait to be in your arms.’_ ”

“Well, did you? Imagine more back then?”

“Not nearly enough with Bull snoring next to me in the room at the keep. This was the time when him and Dorian were on a break, so I did not have my nights to myself. What about you?”

“Sure I did. A lot. Those were a long couple of months, Delrin.”

“ _‘When you finally come home, I will show you just how much I missed you.’ I was certainly looking forward to see you, and more.’_ ”

“It was… rather nice.”

“Rather nice?” He teased. “I have to say, you’re kinder to me in your writing—”

“Ha-ha-ha,” she enunciated.

“—or in the moment. The things you moaned today were… more than just nice.”

“You’re enjoying it way too much.”

“I enjoy you. And I know you enjoy me. This is what you wrote after Jader. _‘I miss making you laugh and I miss the moment when you use it as an excuse to bury your face within my breasts. I miss the feel of your skin on mine. I feel like I know your body by heart, every line and every scar. I miss you so much. I miss how you grasp my waist when you want me. I miss touching you and kissing you and how wonderful you sound when I do that. I so miss making love with you. I hope I make you feel as incredible as you make me feel, because whenever I am with you, I feel beautiful, and comfortable, and safe, and sensual, and sexy and so loved.’_ ”

“I concede,” she hid her face in his shoulder. “You know, hearing my own letters is so… odd, but lovely, too.”

“And you also wrote this: _‘Every single time you leave I miss you, and then I think that it would be impossible to miss you more, but then you leave again and my heart feels more, because my love for you changes and grows every single day.’_ ”

“It’s true,” she sighed. “It’s even true now. We’re both here, but you still leave every day.”

“I know, honey.”

“It’s a different kind of longing. My worry is different. More intense. Everything seems more intense, but I get to have you at the end of the day and that’s its own blessing.”

He pulled Mira closer, so he could feel her whole body against him. Her scent, mixed with his; her warmth, so nice during a cold winter night. Her curly hair, getting in a way. There was no way he would ever get enough of her, and this.

“You are the best,” he said. “And you love me. And I get to love you, day by day. And I will love you tomorrow, and a decade from now, and five decades for now.”

“Mhm,” she smiled.

“My nagging, messy wife,” he added, carefully folding the letters and putting them back inside the book.

He placed the book on top of his leather journal, where it should have been in the first place.

Mira cupped his face and kissed him. Somehow her kisses were always more. Not just warm, and soft, and pleasant, but more, each a declaration of love.

“You should have washed your face better,” she complained. “I still smell myself all over your beard.”

Sweet Andraste. He laughed loudly, wrapping his arms around her back and holding her tight.

“Oh, Mira,” he looked into eyes. “Now I know you’re grasping at straws.”

She placed the tiniest kiss on the tip of his nose.

_(the fragments of the letters come from the actual correspondency Mira has written to Delrin throughout the main story)_


	6. Fighting together

There should be a wall between them. Some separation, at the very least. Fighting together sounded romantic in stories and tales, but Mira was aware of the dangers and the fragility of that arrangement, and so was Delrin.

Love conquered all, as some said. Except that some things should never be conquered, and one of them was duty during service. In the infirmary, she could not choose him over other patients. He was her husband, the love of her life, and if he got injured, she could not abandon the rest and go to him and tend to him. It would be wrong. The simplicity and sureness of that statement would not make it easier to live it out, because Mira was smart enough to realize the difference between the theory and practice, between the principle and bias.

No, perhaps she would not throw away her work for Delrin’s safety, but would something shift inside to make it more likely that in the decision between the two patients and the priority of care, she would favor treating him over someone else?

They had talked about it before, because just like her, he shared that fear and he understood the impossibility of their situation.

Tonight was one of the first war meetings to discuss the attack on the Sahrnia quarry, just for the command of the Inquisition and her and Fiona. Mira had already answered many questions. About the red lyrium and how little they knew. About the concerns regarding people of Sahrnia forced to work in the mine. About the ways to address combat injuries, and the minimum supplies needed. About the transportation, stretchers and setting a space to let the prisoners recuperate if they found any alive. About her correspondence with Dagna and about the samples she had tasked Mira with collecting.

There had been a time when Mira could hardly imagine Delrin angry, but now she knew him by heart. The way he tightened his jaw, the way one of his eyebrows twitched, the bare shadow of irritation in his voice.

It was her and Fiona’s job to give the most reasonable and measured account of what challenges might arise. It was up to those in command, primarily Delrin, to ensure the efficacy of the mission and the safety of those involved, including the medical unit, because there were possibly living, breathing people still trapped at the quarry.

He would be there, doing what he had been doing every single day. Giving out orders, fighting, killing. She would there, doing what she had never done before. Watching the fight from the distance, ready to move in when the time was right. To mend, if there was anyone left to save.

“Surgeon Barris,” he addressed her every single time inside the makeshift war room.

“Captain Barris,” she replied every single time, her back straight.

But they were a husband and wife, Delrin and Mira.

He hated this more than her. Probably because he knew better what could happen in the worst-case scenario.

The wall was flimsy, made of paper.

In a few short minutes, they would leave here, and eat supper together, and enter their tent, together, and wash up, together, and then they would fuck, because it was always so good and made them feel the closest, and she would dig her fingers into his skin, and feel him between her thighs, hot and needy, and then they would whisper all the proclamations of love, quiet and desperate, because he would die for her and she would die for him.

Except it didn’t matter, because it was not their lives at stake, but the lives of people under his command, who had their own loved ones. They all depended on him, just as her patients depended on her to be a bloody fucking doct—a medic.

“We will revisit the topic tomorrow,” the Inquisitor stated.

They had three nights until the battle. 

“Sometimes I hate myself,” Delrin whispered later, as they stood right in front of their tent, cold and covered in darkness, “because I didn’t protest the medical unit following us to the quarry. I wanted to, but it would be only for your sake, so I didn’t. You’re a good medic, Mira, but you have no combat abilities and no experience here. That is so different, and you’re not a soldier. You will be the only civilian there. Every single day I watch you during those fucking meetings where you don’t belong and I want to flip the table and scream, because I feel I am failing you.”

“You’re not,” she said, letting her tears fall down as he wiped his own eyes.

There were no words to convince him, and no words to solve this, otherwise they would have found them already. Still, they talked and cried, quietly, until they rid themselves of things to say. It served no purpose, except that he still told her everything, and so did she. That mattered. 

“I’m tired,” she breathed at the end, small and helpless. All the things she shouldn’t be, and yet Mira could not hide. Not from him.

“Come,” Delrin took her hand, and opened their tent so they could find each other once again.


	7. Lovebirds

The last eight days had been difficult. The losses they had faced, the aftermath that had put everyone on edge. The time was passing mercilessly, and each day exhausted Barris beyond measure.

“You’re thinking too much,” Bull criticized, glancing at the chessboard between them.

“Isn’t that a common affliction among intelligent people?” Delrin raised his eyebrows, smirking at his best friend. “Knight on C6.”

“Pawn on C4.”

The game was a decent distraction, but truth be told he was waiting for Mira. Between her work and his missions, they kept missing each other, and he longed to spend time together.

It would be worse without her. He wished she wasn’t here, in the war zone, close to the danger. She was stressed, overworked and unhappy, and yet, shameful as it was, Delrin drew comfort and strength from holding her at night. He had never been a man of that many words, and it hadn’t changed, but talking with Mira had always come easy. Easier than with most.

The flaps of the lounge tent opened and Delrin looked behind his shoulder. Instead of Mira’s beautiful face, he saw Hawke and gritted his teeth.

“I find it rather amusing,” Bull chuckled, “how you don’t even try to hide your disapproval.”

“I am civil and professional,” Barris scoffed. “ _Always._ I won’t apologize for not liking a man who would like to bed my wife.”

“Kid, there are likely quite the few men and women who would like to bed your wife.”

“You know that that is not what I am talking about. He’s coming here, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

There was always this aura of charisma and confidence bordering smugness around the Champion, but that could be said about almost any man or a woman experienced by combat, not to mention those brought to fame.

“The Iron Bull, Captain Barris.” Hawke said.

“ _Champion_ ,” he bowed his head.

They had never moved past that formality and certain tension had remained. Delrin knew that stemmed from more than any tinge of irritation about Mira. He was a former Templar, and one of particular skill set and experience. Garret Hawke was a mage, an apostate through and through. The Inquisition brought change, and Barris more than supported it, but it didn’t mean that some wounds would ever heal. He didn’t expect them to. It had to be difficult for a man like Hawke to find himself here, in the middle of the military organization sprouted from the word of the Divine, and that warranted respect.

The heavy cloth of the tent rustled when Mira walked in, her hair already down, an unmistakable sign of taking a break from work. The second she saw them she smiled, lightening up his heart.

“That smile alone could heal,” Hawke muttered.

It did, every day, Delrin thought, unable to hide his smirk, unable to take his eyes off his wife.

Mira greeted Bull and Hawke, and then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He felt her breath on his cheek, and the pleasant warmth of her body on his back. She kissed his cheek; such a simple and sweet gesture.

He turned around to snatch her by her waist and pull her on his lap. Mira squealed in surprise and laughed, and he buried his face in her red curls.

“Hi, honey,” he said, because he could.

“Hi,” she turned around to face him, beaming, and that smile was just for him.

“Well,” Hawke remarked. “I need to find Stroud. Have a great afternoon and I suppose I will see you all later.”

They bid him farewell, and Delrin caught the amused expression on Bull’s face.

“Look at you two, _lovebirds_ ,” Bull shook his head. “Mira, would you like to offer your input on Barris’ gameplay? He’s been rather clumsy today.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Delrin frowned. “Utter nonsense.”

“Well, what was your last move?” she asked, settling herself in his embrace.

Just like this, his day got so much better.


	8. Patching up

Hours passed since the battle, and Mira had yet to sit down or drink something warm. They had patched and cleaned the worst injuries back at the quarry and then coordinated transporting the wounded to the main base.

Thankfully, it would soon be over. An hour, maybe, and she and Fiona would finally retire for the night, leaving the patients stabilized and in good shape.

Oh, she needed sleep. She needed Delrin, too. There was a difference between knowing he was all right, and she had seen him walking around the quarry after the battle and shouting his orders. He was fine, she consoled herself. Probably already asleep himself, trying to catch at least few hours of rest before the morning.

It would be fair to say that thinking all that, the last person Mira expected waiting for medical treatment was Delrin, already out of his armor, his beard all crusted with blood, his nose swollen.

“I think,” he groaned, voice changed, “that I might have broken my nose.”

Yes. From a quick glance, it was rather likely.

“Can you breathe well? We still have a wound debridement to finish, and it will take a while, but that is our last patient except you. I hope so, at least.”

“I can breathe well. Believe me,” he replied, unamused. “I heard your poor patient screaming. I’ll wait. Are you done afterwards?”

“We should be done, unless some emergency happens. I’ll tell Fiona you’re here. Sit down, all right?”

A broken nose with no active bleeding could wait until she was done with a particularly nasty leg injury. 

“All right, follow me,” she called out for him sometime later and led him to the private examination room at the back of the tent. “What happened?”

“I got hit in a face with a shield. Fucking red templars. The shield bent my helmet, I suppose, and hit me here,” he gestured. “Honestly, I don’t even know if it’s broken or if it’s very minor, but, it feels weird, so… Ouch.”

“No, you did the right thing coming here, trust me,” she carefully palpated his nose. “It is not too bad, but I will realign it and then we’ll get it healed. You know, forgive me for saying that, but I do love your face, so let’s try not to wreck it just yet.”

“Yes, I’d like that, too, believe me.”

“I am sorry, Delrin, but it will hurt a lot.”

“I know.”

Mira had enough experience to know that even the fiercest fighters were brought to their knees and often cried after the adrenaline of the battle had gone away. In some sense, the infirmary was a place of infinite vulnerability. No fight, no glory of a battle, just a person and their pain.

“You look pretty today,” he added softly and Mira wanted to hug him, except that she had no intention of getting that crusted blood on herself.

“Look at you,” she replied, smiling. “Still the sweetest.”

“Always. Right now it might be a cowardly act of self-preservation given that you are about to hurt me in a moment,” he joked. “At least be merciful.”

“I will be gentle and quick,” she assured him, gathering the tools. “Besides, Fiona will heal you and your nose will be like new. I am sorry, sweetheart.”

“Mhm,” he whined, closing his eyes.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Mira to rotate the forceps as she tried ignore the obvious pain sounds that Delrin couldn’t stifle.

Pain was pain. He could be a warrior, but he was only a man, too.

“You’re done,” she whispered, cleaning up. “Let me wash out that blood of your face, too,”

“Thank you.”

“I love you,” she said, tenderness overcoming her as she looked into his teary eyes. “I am sorry you got injured.”

“It’s nothing. You should have seen the other guy,” he joked, and a cold shudder traveled down Mira’s spine.

It served as a reminder that death was never too far away. Today it was a nose fracture, something mild and fixable. Tomorrow it could be… anything. It didn’t matter how skilled or talented of a sword fighter Delrin was. It didn’t matter how good of a captain he was. There were things he couldn’t prepare for, and sometimes it was just… chance.

The thought was bitter and frightening.

She placed a quick kiss on his forehead.

He was fine. He was entirely fine.

“You know what I need?” he asked in the most pleading and suffering voice and then wiggled his hands underneath her tunic. “The healing power of your glorious breasts.”

Mira rolled her eyes and laughed as he squeezed them. She was just about to remind him to behave, when Fiona walked in, stopped and blinked few times.

For fucks sake.

“Captain Barris,” the mage resorted to a groan of a person who had seen everything.

Mira died inside as the heat of embarrassment exploded all over her face. Delrin slowly took his hands out of her shirt, and she wondered how to cling to the semblance of dignity at her place of work.

“Enchanter,” he managed, always polite. “I apol—“

“Congratulations on the successful mission, Captain,” Flora continued, merciless in her approach. “I see you seem to be feeling rather… well. I’ll heal you and we can all rest, because clearly,” the glow of the healing spell filled the space, “some of us are already in a less professional mindset.”

“Thank you, Enchanter,” Delrin muttered after it was all done, looking more flustered than Mira had ever seen him.

“Thank you, Fiona.”

“I will relay all the orders and notes onto the next. Did you write the instructions for the dressing changes?

“Yes, and Lisa had done it before, too. Honestly, they should be fine for a night without us.”

“Very well,” Fiona nodded and left the room.

The Enchanter would likely never bring it up again, but now the memory would stay with Mira forever.

Still, the guilt and shame on Delrin’s face were so evident that she couldn’t help but to snort.

“Let me check that nose again,” she sighed.

“Mira,” he breathed. “I am so sorry, I did not—Did she walk in unannounced?”

“I am sure she said something, and we just didn’t hear her. Stop blaming Fiona and don’t you fucking dare blaming my breasts.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he vowed, solemn and serious until a small chuckle escaped him.

“You know,” Mira shook her head. “I wish I could blame it on some potion or something, but no. That was just you, my husband, a private and reasonable man who never crosses any boundaries, and who acts so proper—”

“I was grievously injured, in pain…”

“I might murder you.”

“I deserve to be murdered.”

“Well—“

“Might I suggest you murder me with your breasts—“

“I feel like you’re not embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, believe me, that is my embarrassed reaction. It’s just the panic talking.”

“Uhm. Come,” Mira gazed at him, all the love bubbling inside of her. “I am way too soft, but I will cuddle you in consolation.”

“You are very soft,” he remarked triumphantly. “Especially in places.”

“Let’s reach our tent first, shall we? We certainly don’t need any more mishaps, Captain Barris.”

“Believe me,” he helped her put a jacket on, “I’ve learned my lesson.”


	9. Be mine

Mira laughed so hard that it turned into snorting. She rolled around the sleeping furs, face red, tears in her eyes, squealing.

“I just asked you a simple question,” Delrin said, turning on his side.

“Please,” she begged, trying to breathe. “Please, just let… don’t say anything for a moment.”

He let her laugh it out, wondering if anyone would come to their tent to check on them given how loud she was.

“Almost there,” Mira whispered and giggled again.

“You know,” he frowned. “I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to explain this.”

“I will, I will, in second,” she promised, fanning herself. “I swear. I am sorry, Delrin, I feel like it’s unworthy of me to laugh, and certainly unworthy of my education. I am sorry again”, she inhaled and steadied herself. “It is certainly not the worst hypothesis, but yes, I can answer that and no, your seed does not contain… minuscule babies. It is not how it works, so let me explain.”

“All right.”

“I don’t even know how to start. Do you have a piece of parchment and a pencil? Really? You want me to draw in your sacred notebook?”

“It’s not exactly sacred,” he scoffed, “I use it for all my sketches and random ideas.”

“I feel I am tainting it somehow, but as you wish. I really am great at drawing. So, just consider this as a start. You look much like your father, and you also have your mother’s eyes, right? It might not always be so clear as in your case, but it is obvious that you got some traits from your father, and some from your mother, and that is precisely because you’re related to them. Now, before we get to the mechanics of reproduction, so to say, let’s just imagine how it happens. Your parents have both passed you some traits. Basically it means that their bodies contain pieces of information, and that information was passed down onto you. Fuck it. I suck at this already. Anyway, assuming it is exactly like on Earth, and this is the general assumption I operate under and so far so good, your body, my body, anyone’s body are made of what we’d call cells. Millions times millions of cells…”

Delrin listened, watching Mira’s hands, quickly moving on a parchment. To be frank, it was a lot more complex than he had imagined before, and once again he got caught between the oddness of the concept and the feeling of being mesmerized. He had seen the photos of her world once, and back then it had seemed already impossible, but perhaps it were ideas, not merely images that truly should have stunned him.

Sometimes, it was easy to almost forget how foreign her origin was, because that was Mira, and nothing about her could be more familiar to him. Her face, her body, the way she gestured when excited, the way she gave him that critical look, the taste of her lips, all the signs of sadness and anger and joy and fear he could notice so quickly. The way she talked, and how her accent no longer was difficult to place because it was simply hers. How she still did not want to say many words in her native tongue, but sometimes she did, and he did too, when it was just them, quiet in their togetherness. She had so much knowledge that was literally out of this world, and yet when he was seeing her work so little of it felt extraordinary, because he knew she only could do things already possible in Thedas.

His impossible woman. Neither of them believed in destiny, and yet now he could not imagine his existence without her.

“Are you even listening to me?” she tickled his stomach.

“Yes!” he chuckled. “Yes. I am indeed. The tadpole-looking sperm cell joins with the sun-looking egg cell. I am following, somewhat.”

“Well, all right,” she giggled.

“Is it weird to know so much that no one else does?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged. “But you know, a lot of my knowledge is useless. Not this, but a lot of it. I don’t use it, I don’t try to retain it. The same with my skills. I develop a different knowledge and I work on different skills though. I suppose this is just the assimilation. There is something peculiar about the reality when you are the only person knowing something. It is less about knowledge per se, more about culture, and identity, and everything else. Everything translates and transforms and changes.”

“That sounds… challenging,” he whispered.

“I’ve known nothing different here, but you know yourself that I’ve always assumed I would stay here forever. I have found more than I thought I would. I still work, I’ve developed relationships with others and there’s _you_ , obviously. It is challenging, but a lot of things are more difficult than this, like the war around us… There is a lot more I feel, too.”

He found her hand, interlocking their fingers. That was familiar too, how her hand felt in his.

“Is it challenging to you?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Sometimes I just wish I could offer you more. Learn more, and quicker. I know you so well, and yet there is this vast world that made you who you are, and I only know so little.”

“You know me in all the ways that matter,” she smiled. “You know me better than anyone has ever had, and I really think it’s the truth.”

“Good. I feel the same. And I never tire of learning more about you.”

“Good, because I hear you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

“Promise?”

“I believe I already have,” she pulled herself closer to find his lips, and he wondered if he’d ever stop marvel at how it all came to be.

“I love you,” he breathed. “All of you. All those millions times millions of cells.”

Mira laughed once again.


	10. Kisses to soothe

The night was cozy, their room at the Suledin Keep almost hot thanks to the fireplace. Such a change from the cold tent set on a frozen ground, and Mira could not seem more peaceful at the moment. She was sleeping, snuggled up to his side, nose buried into his armpit, wearing only his sweater, emitting pleasant warmth. No sound around except the flickering fire and her breathing, steady and slow.

Mira was safe, and he should go to sleep, but the fear and worry hadn’t left him yet. There were many times he had imagined her getting injured, and worse. He ran his hand on the back of her thigh and instead of the smooth skin he felt scarred tissue of the wound that had been stitched and healed. Mira shrugged it off, and she wasn’t wrong. They had seen plenty of more severe injuries. This was a nasty one that had needed proper debridement, but it had never threatened her life. Still, whenever Delrin closed his eyes, he could see the tears on her face, and hear her screams. She had asked him to be the one to hold her in place during the treatment, and her body fought pain so hard that he had had to use quite a lot of force to pin her down for Fiona to wash out all the dirt, and sand, and glass and stone out of the wound. Such a harrowing experience, and even though he had assisted with many injuries, it had never been like this before, because that was _his wife_.

Mira was not a warrior. Not that she wasn’t strong or resilient, but he knew that she had never even seen a battled field before. The war was new to her, in every way, even as a medic. Granted, many Thedasians were not prepared when their homes got sacked in yet another terror, but Mira was not from here, and he could have protected her. She could be at Skyhold right now. Safe. _Safer_.

If she wasn’t here, they would not save as many.

Instead, she was right by his side; tender, lovely and warm, and now her body bore the marks of a battle.

What would the future bring? What else would happen and could happen? If she was a fighter—but she was not, and how could he have allowed—

“…not sleeping?” Mira mumbled, lifting her head.

“Hmm?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” she opened her eyes, frowning. “What’s wrong, Delrin?”

All the emotions burst open, and he said nothing at all, kissing her instead, just to feel her breath on his. She gasped, still sleepy, and then melted into his lips, guiding him closer, on top of her, digging her hands into his back. Her skin almost burned and he wanted nothing more but to bury himself inside of her and feel her around him, coming apart in his arms, safe and warm, and _so alive_.

Her hands were so sure, trailing his chest downwards, and he needed her close, the closest, grasping onto him, holding him, clinging to him.

“Delrin,” Mira whispered, “I want you.”

“Yes,” he breathed, putting his hands on her body, feeling her soft stomach, the dip of her waist, and then that wonderful roundness of her hips and—He froze, finding the scars again. It was a fresh injury, so fresh in his mind and yet because of magic it felt old under his touch, like something that had been there before, except that he knew Mira’s body by heart and two days ago there had been no scars.

“Hey,” she looked look him in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I am sorry” he swallowed, desire gone, replaced by the sharp pain around his heart. “I—You—“

“Is that why you can’t sleep?” she touched his cheek, and he knew he would never lie to her. “Because you’re sulking and worrying about me?”

“You got hurt.”

“Delrin,” she cupped his face, “No enemy was close to me. It was an accident.”

“I held you down to get this wound fixed. You were fighting me so hard and I—“

“I asked for you because I trust you. Delrin, I do this to other people _day by day._ It’s awful. They scream, cry, curse at me, they fight, and then they are fine because _they heal_. I was fighting you because it was my body’s reaction to the worst pain of my life. I mean, you’ve done it before, I know you have—“

“None of those people were you. And you’re so—“

“Meek? Fragile? A damsel in distress?”

He chuckled, lowering his face. None of those things, not quite.

“You know that is not what I mean. Just… precious.”

“ _Precious_?” she smirked, surrounded by the red halo of curls.

“Yes. Precious.”

“I am fine,” she said, guiding his hands back onto her scar. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s not the prettiest, but it doesn’t harm me in any way.”

“You are always the prettiest,” he breathed. “I don’t want—Mira, you know, I worry about losing you, too. I know, I know, but it’s not only you that worries. I know you’re not out there fighting but sometimes you’re close and it doesn’t fucking matter to me if it’s an accident or the enemy attacking you. If you stood a bit closer and one of those stones fell on you…” his voice broke.

“Oh,” she wrapped her arms around him, and he shifted on his side, not to crush her under his weight. “I know you’re worried. Believe, I do, because I worry every day, and—I’m here, Delrin. Right here.”

“Yes, you are,” he agreed, smelling her hair.

“I missed this,” she admitted. “The fire. The warmth.”

“One day we’ll get our bed back, too.”

“Well. I’ll take any improvements over a cold tent. Sweetie, you should have woken me up to talk, or just for me to cuddle you to sleep.”

“Honey, you work so hard, I would never—“

“Turn around,” Mira nudged. “I will cuddle you now.”

Well, Delrin listened, waiting until he felt her palm on his stomach, her lips at the back of his neck and her naked breasts pressing into him.

“You took off the sweater.”

“It’s rather hot in here. And I know you like it that way.”

“I do,” he smiled, feeling the warmth of her soft, curvy body, and the gentle touch of her fingers.

“I love you,” she whispered right into his ear, her breath tickling. “We’re together, and we’re very much alive.”

“As opposed to being alive just a little?”

“Well,” she kissed his neck once again. “Don’t argue with a medic.”

“I won’t win this one, will I?“

“No, you won’t.”

Delrin closed his eyes, focusing on the soothing caresses and Mira’s voice whispering sweet things. Should he be ashamed how much he loved it, how it made him feel better to know that even in his fear, he was not alone? She understood, and she cared for him and he could rely on her, too.

Mira was not a warrior, but she was resilient, and he had witnessed it again and again. That brought him strength, too.

“I don’t know if I’ll fall asleep,” he admitted after a while, the burden on his heart lighter.

“ _Oh,_ ” she said, and that was the least subtle ‘ _oh_ ’ he had ever heard. He laughed, his body shaking. “So, what would you like to do?”

He turned on his back and pulled Mira in for a kiss, surprising her again. She straddled him, giggling, and kissed him back, again and again and again and _again_ ; all sweet, excited and loving.


	11. Tea

Mira dried herself with a towel, enjoying the pleasant warmth of their small bedroom at the Keep. It was still dark before the dawn. There was a long day ahead of her with no time to waste, because they would leave Emprise du Lion shortly, and she needed to make sure the field infirmary would remain under good care to still serve its purpose.

Delrin entered the bedroom just when she was done dressing herself and tying her boots.

“I thought you’d be still asleep,” he said, passing her a metal cup of hot tea.

“Thank you, thank you,” she gushed. “I think I woke up right after you left. There’s a lot to do, I am sure you’re busy, too.”

“You know,” he shrugged. “Just a normal procedure in change of the command. Nothing too trying, just meetings. Baron Desjardins is an ally to the Inquisition, our lieutenants are well-trained. Other than that, I am seeing off the Chevaliers who are leaving ahead of us for Halamshiral and then there is a regular war meeting to go over the plans of the Inquisition.”

“Like the Winter Ball?”

The dark shadow fell on his face.

“I with it was only that.”

There was no pressure to say more, not when they both understood being bound by their work, and how love did not change their responsibility.

She took a sip of her tea, blinking at the sudden honeyed sweetness. For the last month she had been taking her tea plain because of the scarce resources.

“Apparently,” Delrin laughed at her face, “the Suledin keep is very well stocked, including enough honey. Anyway, I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He looked so happy with himself, and another kind of sweetness spread over Mira’s heart. She stood on her toes and kissed him.

“Thank you.”

“Always,” he said.

_Always_. Delrin had _always_ shown his love through all those acts of daily care, regardless how busy and tired he had been. If he was able to lessen her load, he would do it, as simple as that.

“Ready?” he asked. “We can grab some rolls and I can walk you to the infirmary before I see Lieutenant Corr.”

“Lead the way.”

She drank her tea fast, before they even reached the courtyard.

“I knew you missed it,” he noticed triumphantly. “You’ve never been as enthusiastic about the unsweetened tea.”

“That’s not entirely true,” she scoffed. “I always like tea, and most importantly, I always like when you make it. It tastes better, for some reason.”

Even amidst this all, they carved out a space and found time for each other; they shielded their marriage, they talked. It mattered, it would always matter.

It was easy to give to a man like him, who’d give so much himself. It was easy to be vulnerable. The life around them was not easy, but this? Whatever battles they fought, and the war would go on, they would come to each other at the end of the day and find peace.

“Well,” Delrin smiled. “It tastes better because I make it with love.”


	12. Watching sunset

The grayish sky was slowly turning pink. They sat on the balcony of the Suledin Keep, drinking tea and eating apples, and Mira rested her head on his shoulder.

“I always enjoy doing that, you know?” he said. “To sit down at the end of the day and remind myself that this world is more beautiful than it seems.”

“I know,” she replied, a smile in her voice. “Remember that time when you took me out of Skyhold and dragged me on that boulder and showed me the view of the valley? It was just a beginning of autumn with leaves changing color. And then we just… talked.”

“First of all, I did not drag you there, you came willingly,” he frowned, amused. “Second of all, now that you said it, it makes me sound so boring.”

“Delrin, we both know that you like to sit in silence and look at nature. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I like doing it with you,” he remarked, kissing the top of her head. “And we both know that means little silence.”

“I can stay silent,” she chuckled.

“I’m sure you can, honey,” he teased and Mira gritted her teeth.

“Didn’t you promise me a _romantic_ time together?”

“I promised you a sunset,” he retorted. “And there it is.”

The landscape ahead of them was a mixture of white and grey, everything covered in snow, frozen. A harsh winter, with all of Emprise du Lion wounded, bleeding. It would take years for the region to heal, but what they had achieved was a beginning.

A ray of hope.

As the sun descended, the horizon burst with light and color, coming to life with all the shades of gold, copper and pink.

“I never thought I would say that,” Mira whispered. “But it’s beautiful here.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Like all of the Dales, it has a cold and cruel past and now it suffers from its cold and cruel present, but it is never the only thing there is. It takes effort to see, but often, there is… _more_. However small that might be, there are still people right now who care, who love, who try to simply live their lives. Sometimes I imagine someone from a different time or a different place looking at nature around them and feeling what I do. It is a comforting thought. I find beauty soothing, I suppose.”

“Of course you do. You are an artist.”

“That is rather generous to say.”

“I disagree. Have you listened to your own words just now? Besides, I see how often you draw, and what you draw and how it reflects how you view the world. You choose to see beauty, you seek it, you make it your responsibility to notice, and it is more than aesthetics, it is a reflection.”

“You know,” he admitted, feeling her words reach deep inside his soul. “That is a very freeing sentiment after a month of issuing commands, planning attacks and fighting. I am not certain if I deserve that, but I would like to.”

“There is a reality that stems from the work that you do. It is impossible to deny, and you wouldn’t be neither as good nor as caring if you rejected your identity as a soldier, but that has never been the only thing that you are, or rather—No, that is a wrong way to say it. I am talking about an understanding that there is a space to carve out who you are and what you think and feel, even when everything seems both defeating and so limiting. There is something… _more_. Sorry, I’m mumbling now.”

“No,” he breathed out, full of emotion. “I know what you mean. It has been a difficult month. People have died, and even though it was no one form my squadron, people have died under my command. Not the first time, not the last one, either, but there is a reckoning; finding something in between the guilt and shame and duty and then a sense of self. It is never a one time reckoning, too. Sometimes it is easier, sometimes it is harder. In some sense, it has been a decade of doing just that. Yes, I am no longer a Templar, but it is still about facing myself and being honest about who I am.”

Mira nodded, and he knew that she had been facing herself too, as a medic who had made choices about life and death issues, who had seen pain and suffering, who had seen war through a difference lens than him.

“I know it will get worse,” she confessed, voice cracking.

It would become official after the ball and the negotiations at the Winter Palace, and Mira had yet to find out, but they would march on the Adamant fortress right after Halamshiral.

Deep down, he also knew she would not go back to Skyhold, regardless of his fear or her own.

“Yes,” he confirmed, because while his duty and work bound him to not tell her more and she would never ask for more, he would not lie to her.

She placed her hand on his.

“It has been a difficult month,” she said, “and yet here we are. I worry about you, you worry about me and that fear is almost paralyzing. _Almost_. There is a vulnerability in love, and I know it is harder for you when I am here, but at the same time, I hope it is easier in some ways, too. It has been for me. You are my place of rest. How do I say that? You are my place of rest, but not as a distraction, not to deny the reality around me or to escape from who I am. You are my place of rest precisely because with you, there’s no hiding, only truth.”

It cut through all the layers, straight to his heart, because once again Mira found the words and Delrin found himself in them, too.

“Yes,” he rasped. “And yes, I admit that at the core of who I am I rebel at the idea of you here, at war. I love you. I want you to be safe. There are so many things I want for you. But how can I deny everything else? You are my place of rest, too. _You know me_. Remember what you said that one time at the lake? You said something along the lines of love being about knowing someone and letting them know you in return. That love comes from the truth of who we are.”

“I do remember,” she lifted her head to grace him with that lovely smile. “We were sitting and talking, not unlike right now. I still think that’s what love is. Now more than ever.”

The sun was still there, but barely. The sky became darker, and soon enough, everything on the horizon would disappear into the night.

“See,” Delrin sighed. “How could I ever miss silence when I have _this_ , with you?”


	13. Last night

They were back to sleeping in a tent, but Mira did not care, because they had left Emprise du Lion. The weather changed, and the punishing cold turned into a muddy and wet thaw. Two night and they would reach Halamshiral. She did not want to think what would happen after. One day at the time.

Delrin finished writing out orders for tomorrow and some notes for Cullen. He put the parchment away and collapsed on their bedroll with a sigh. It had been a long day of riding, and while Mira had little to do except listening to Vivienne’s lecture about the court and what to expect at the Winter Palace, Delrin kept busy.

There would be more ahead of them, there always was. She looked at her husband, lying on the sleeping furs in that simple green sweater she had always liked, rubbing his forehead. He seemed more mentally tired than anything else. His beard got even longer, and she wondered if he’d trim it for the ball.

Mira moved closer, nudging his shoulder with her nose and then kissing him on the cheek. He dropped his hands and turned towards her, smiling.

There was nothing extraordinary about their love, except that perhaps finding home in another person always carried a trace of a miracle.

His skin was smooth and warm underneath her touch. She caressed his cheek, trailed her fingers along his bearded jawline, to his neck, when she noticed a small bruise.

“What happened on your—Wait, is that a _hickey_? Did I give you a hickey?”

“Well,” Delrin raised his eyebrows, grinning as his whole face lit up. “You were rather passionate when I pounded you into the wall last night.”

Mira laughed, hiding her face into his armpit to muffle the sound.

“You know what,” she took a deep breath. “I think that is why back is hurting right now. I thought it was all the horse riding, but it could be because you did pound me into the wall last night.”

“I am not feeling guilty,” he said, still smirking, brushing her curls off her face. “Is it bad though?”

“No,” she admitted, amused. “But you should feel guilty. It was your idea.”

“Which you readily agreed to.”

“I expressed reservations.”

“ _Oh no no no_ ,” he chuckled and brushed his mouth against her throat. “You expressed one reservation, and it was not about any potential _injuries_ , it was about whether _I_ am _strong enough_ to hold you.”

“To be fair, I said that you might struggle with my _generous_ ,” she giggled when his beard tickled that sensitive spot near her clavicle, “and _ample_ booty.”

“I am still somewhat offended,” he breathed into her ear. “I love that _generous_ and _ample_ booty, and I can certainly handle it, and you know what? I feel _entirely_ fine. The only thing I am left with is a hickey.”

“Apparently.”

“Say it,” he peppered her neck with kisses. “Say that I am so very strong.”

“Fine,” Mira relented, laughing in earnest, feeling his weight above her. “Fine. You are a strong, strapping, powerful man, a true knight and a warrior—“

“Very good—“

“Although the chronic strain on joints actually —“

“Oh, honey, no need to add anything more,” he cupped her face, his green eyes gleaming with joy.

“Well then. Only because it is your birthday tomorrow.”

“How _generous_ of you.”

“I am _generous_ in more ways than one. Anyway, what would you like for your birthday? There are not a lot of options at this moment.”

“I am a man of simple tastes,” he let her rest on his chest, gently stroking her back. “And we’re reaching a town with a tavern tomorrow. All I want is a half decent meal, half decent desert, a half decent whisky or ale or wine, I won’t be picky, and a lovely time with my _beautiful_ and _generous_ in more ways than one wife, and then a good night’s sleep, in an actual bed.”

“Sex in a bed. That is my husband’s dream for his twenty-ninth birthday.”

“Sleep in a bed,” he corrected. “Although sex on actual furniture would be nice, too.”

“Mhm,” she agreed. “It would.”


End file.
